


Comfortable In This Skin

by Nevcolleil



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-09
Updated: 2018-07-09
Packaged: 2019-06-08 00:06:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15231018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nevcolleil/pseuds/Nevcolleil
Summary: Inspired by the scene in Episode 1x12, when Mac is working on a motorcycle."Watching you wiggle around like this, right in front of me... Mac, it's doing things to me, man. I'm gonna crawl on out of my skin."But he doesn't, of course. He curls over and puts his lips on Mac's skin - explores the sliver of belly that Mac's shirt has ridden up and revealed like he's mapping the expanse for a critical mission...





	Comfortable In This Skin

**Author's Note:**

> This is kind of all over the place, thematically, I suppose. Mostly because it's more PWP than anything. A way to exorcise some thoughts so Mac and Jack will behave in my other fics :p Hopefully it's enjoyable all the same.

Mac honestly thinks nothing of it. 

They're hanging out, just like they have hundreds of times before. The fact that they're having sex more nights than not these days, and have agreed to see just how far the emotional aspect of that development will take them - Neither of those things has affected how they interact with one another outside of the bedroom, thank god, other than to allow for casual kisses when they're in private now, and teasing that's a lot more risque than anything they would have said to one another before.

They still get together to watch tv and unwind just as often. They play basketball or hang out with the team. Jack kicks back while Mac tinkers with one thing or another; Mac reads while Jack cleans his guns. 

Mac's lying on his living room floor, tuning up the old motorcycle that's just been sitting in his grandfather's garage since Mac was little. (Jack said it's a "sweet" make and model. Mac wouldn't know, but he's thinking maybe Jack might appreciate it if Mac can get it up and running again.)

Jack's lounging on the couch, keeping Mac entertained with his particularly _Jack_ brand of commentary as he reads through today's newspaper.

Mac's contributing to the conversation - he's not just letting Jack's voice wash over him, however soothing doing so would be. This is their off-time. Mac's already feeling relaxed. He's content to putter lazily with the ins and outs of his grandpa's old motorcycle; it's not going anywhere, and neither - Mac has begun to let himself truly believe - is Jack.

But Jack says something funny - in a moment Mac won't remember what - and Mac lifts his head to look at Jack and smile. 

And Jack looks back at him like Mac's hit him over the head with a two-by-four.

Mac is immediately concerned. "What-" But Jack doesn't make him ask.

"Okay. Now that's just about all that I can take," Jack says, tossing the newspaper aside without looking away from Mac for a second.

Stupid, instantaneous doubt curls up in Mac's throat and makes his chest feel tight. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm getting that," Jack says, with a heat that Mac could easily mistake as anger - which, again, is stupid; Mac is aware. Except that Jack unceremoniously drops off of the side of the couch and onto his knees, as languidly as though someone _has_ hit him over the head with a two-by-four.

And he _crawls_ to Mac, turning that lump in Mac's throat into a very different kind of thickness, as quick as a switch being flipped. 

"But sweet Mary, mother of Jesus," Jack mumbles, eyes having panned down, Mac realizes, from Mac's own gaze to the sprawl of Mac's body... To the sliver of belly Mac didn't realize his shirt has ridden up to reveal - to the vee of Mac's legs. Mac hasn't been paying any attention to what the parts of his body not involved in his tinkering have been doing, but he sees now how his legs are stretched out in front of him in the perfect position for Jack to crawl in between them, and Jack does.

He crawls until he has to kneel to fit as firmly between Mac's thighs as possible, the tops of his thighs pressing up underneath the bottoms of Mac's. 

He lays his hands on Mac's hips like he's touching something precious that he isn't entirely sure won't vanish if he paws at it carelessly.

"Now that I know I can have a taste of this, just about whenever I please," Jack says, smoothing his rough hands along the waistline of Mac's jeans, curling the tips of his fingers over and underneath, "watching you wiggle around like this right in front of me... Mac, it's doing things to me, man. I'm gonna crawl on out of my skin."

But he doesn't, of course. He curls over and puts his lips on _Mac's_ skin - explores that sliver of belly like he's mapping the expanse for a critical mission, with lips and tongue and teeth - and arousal abruptly catches up with Mac like it's been waiting at the back of his brain for something to punch through his focus and let it through.

"Fuck, Jack..." punches out of Mac just as the tip of Jack's tongue dips into Mac's belly button, and Mac lets his head fall back with a thud.

"Yeah, that's what I was thinking," Jack says, and Mac can't help but laugh out loud.

He _feels_ Jack grin, into the flesh of his abdomen, before Jack loses a little of the delicacy in his touch, and he manhandles Mac into lying with both of his hips flush to the floor, making Mac groan.

"Jack, I'm like elbows-deep in this," Mac doesn't really protest - just says, even as he feels himself harden painfully quick in his jeans. Jack's hands are sliding up and down the inside of Mac's thighs now, rasping against the denim, while Jack bites playfully at Mac's sides, making the muscles in Mac's stomach quiver and his speech stutter shakily.

"You won't need your elbows for what I have in mind," Jack says cheekily. "You just keep doing what you're doing... And I'll do you," he teases, glancing up at Mac and winking.

Then he bends down and bites at the growing bulge at the front of Mac's crotch.

"Holy _shit_..." Mac curses, hands slip-sliding around the wires and hoses he'd been separating with his fingers. His head snaps back up nearly fast enough to knock into the front wheel housing of the bike.

Jack's already reaching for the button and zipper of Mac 's jeans, but he does ask. "Can I-"

"Jesus. Yeah, of course... " Mac needs no time to think about it. "Of course. God, Jack."

And Jack doesn't even bother pulling Mac's clothes all the way off. He pulls Mac's loosened fly open wide, tugs Mac's jeans down far enough that the parted zipper isn't a danger to Mac's exposed flesh, pulls Mac through the slit in his boxers and-

" _God_. God, Jack... " Mac repeats, like his brain's stuck on those few words. "Jack..." Like this is the only possible combination of the English alphabet worth verbalizing.

With the tight, wet heat of Jack's mouth totally consuming him...

Mac's hands skid across the inner workings of the bike above him, one curling around an exhaust pipe, the other tangling in the mess of hoses and wires Mac hopes he hasn't done more damage to in his distracted state.

Once Mac is fully - nearly painfully - erect, Jack begins to bob his head.

It's fast. _So_ fast. Mac would feel ridiculous if he could feel anything but the pleasure Jack is giving him, and ridiculously turned on. His legs tremble benesth Jack. He's making near constant groans and little whimpers, deep in his throat. And in minutes, just minutes, he's staring fixedly at the grease-coated chrome of Jack's bike so he doesn't glance back down at the man himself. Dark lashes lowered, ruggedly handsome face lit with a type of pleasure almost equal to Mac's own, mouth open wide - lips pressing again and again down to the very base of Mac's cock...

"I'm going to come," he whines desperately. He can _hear_ that it's a whine, but he can't change it. Can't stop. He can never quite control himself when he's in Jack's hands, can he? "Jack, I can't - I can't, _I'm coming_ -"

Jack pulls off. Mac cries out, but Jack just scoots back. He grabs Mac under his knees and drags him out from under the bike. He's unzipped his own jeans and shoves them and his boxers down to his knees.

Mac nearly chokes on the moan that wells up in him at the sight. Jack's thick cock revealed to him, flushed and leaking-

"Yes, Jack, please-"

He'd take it. The loss of that perfect suction he'd been a breath away from losing himself in won't even be a loss if Jack presses his length against Mac's. Anything- Mac will take anything, and he'll like it - he'll _love_ it. If Jack's developing a hairpin trigger on his libido, now that he and Mac are sleeping together, it's nothing compared to the pressure valve Mac already knows he himself becomes whenever Jack gets him going.

"I got you, Mac," Jack mumbles, in a voice ground into gravel, then he swoops back down onto Mac and sucks him for everything that he's worth.

Mac's hands scrabble blindly for Jack's shoulder - for the slightly longer hair at the top of Jack's head, just long enough to make a loose fist in. His eyes squeeze involuntary shut, Mac's back arches off the floor, and he shouts Jack's name as his orgasm rips through him with more horsepower than any make or model of machine Mac's ever heard of.

Jack sees him through all of it, and more, before pressing his face into the crease of Mac's thigh, panting as he reaches down between his own legs.

"Let me," Mac manages to croak out in a whisper that Jack nonetheless hears and understands.

He all but flings himself alongside Mac's body, shattered breaths a kind of wordless begging that Mac's heart flips in his chest to be entrusted with. He takes Jack in hand at the same time that Jack crushes their mouths together. With his other hand, Mac seeks out Jack's balls, swallowing the sounds of abandon that fight their way out of Jack as he does.

And like that Mac works Jack until he's coming all over Mac's hands and his torso, his jeans - a stripe of come even reaches the hem of Mac's rucked up t-shirt. Mac couldn't care less how messy it gets. He moans throughout, half as loud as Jack does. Jack's wrecked "Oh- Oh, Mac... oh, baby. Oh, Mac..." as he shudders through his climax immediately burned into Mac's brain.

Mac's never been entirely relaxed after sex, really. Even with his bones feeling like jelly, like his muscle and tissue could just slide right off, he lay with the few lovers he had before Jack with this thread of anxiety inside of him, anticipating a harsh touch. Maybe feeling even more exposed with the rest of him feeling so stripped of care and tension (of protection.)

He learned to hide it in what Nikki seemed to buy as simply bashful smiles and a discomfort with the messiness of sex. He'd _wanted_ to relax with Nikki completely - he had - out of everyone.

But he was never going to make himself feel like this with anyone, Mac's already realized - and revels in now. This way that Mac's felt with Jack since the very first time, even with the potential for awkwardness that had existed then - with Mac not knowing what would happen next while caring so very, very much already about what could.

Mac lazily nuzzles the side of Jack's face, where it rests against Mac's shoulder. The grin he can feel stretching his lips is anything but bashful. He's just.

He's so happy.

It hadn't even occurred to him before, laid out on his living room floor, to think about how he might look to Jack, regardless of where their relationship has taken them. He hadn't spared a thought to whether it would be too obvious, if Jack asked what he's fixing up the bike for anyway, and Mac told him that he plans to give it to Jack as a gift. 

It hadn't occurred to Mac that any gesture Mac might make for Jack could be 'obvious'. That would imply an alternative to Mac's feelings being as unmistakable as a neon sign, and Mac's pretty sure that that ship has long since sailed.

Mac is as comfortable with Jack, as his lover, as he's ever been with Jack as his partner and friend. And that. That brings a special kind of happiness that Mac hadn't explicitly thought he would find with anyone before now. He'd barely had the nerve, when he and Jack first became close, to hope that he would get to keep a part of it with Jack.

And now he has it all.

Out loud, Mac says, "Well. Now that you've gotten another 'taste of this'-" He feels as much as he hears Jack chuckle at the teasing.

"Dude," Jack whines. "Okay, not fair. I am not accountable for whatever weird thing I say while you're smiling up at me with your legs spread. Okay? Turns my brain into a potato."

"Should I be expecting more spontaneous floor sex when we're in private?"

Maybe the evolution of their relationship has changed more about the way Mac and Jack interact out of the bedroom than Mac thought - just not in any bad way. In a way that Mac thinks he will really enjoy getting used to.

And exploring.

"Floor sex, wall sex. Whatever you want, babe," Jack says, like _he_ can feel _Mac_ thinking - and he knows the shape of those thoughts. Then he groans and adds, as though he knows also where those thoughts lead with Mac. "Just not right this second. Have mercy."

Mac's grin hasn't faded. He presses it, and a laugh, against the same skin he's been nuzzling.

"Don't worry. I plan to pace myself."

"That's all I ask, man."

And Mac knows they're being playful, but he still takes Jack's words - the feel of them warm and soft - to heart. Because coming from Jack, he knows they're honest.


End file.
